


Joy and Solace

by ilcuoreardendo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Cock Cages, Dominant Qui-Gon Jinn, Explicit Sexual Content, Force Bond (Star Wars), Idiots in Love, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Love, M/M, Milking Stick, Overstimulation, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Power Dynamics, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Prostate Orgasm, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Roughness, Sex Toys, Submissive Obi-Wan Kenobi, Top Qui-Gon Jinn, male chastity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: In the midst of war, Obi-Wan finds peace.He was a creature of flesh and blood and raw sensation to be shaped and molded by his Master’s hands.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 172
Collections: QuiObi Kink Week





	Joy and Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 1 of QuiObi Kink Week 2020. The prompt: Forced Orgasms/Overstimulation | Prostate Milking. I just went with all of it. 
> 
> Probably the only entry I'm doing (unless _Acquisition_ continues giving me trouble and I need a distraction.) 
> 
> As always, posted first at my [Tumblr](http://ilcuoreardendo-fic.tumblr.com). (And usually at my Dreamwidth as well, though I borked that one this round.) Normally I wait a bit to post over here, but I'm impatient. ;)

* * *

Obi-Wan stood outside the nondescript hotel door, not fidgeting. Jedi Masters didn’t fidget. He could feel Qui-Gon moving around inside and knew Qui-Gon could feel him, even though the new bond between them lay soft and muted, by mutual agreement. (New bonds, out in the field, could be distracting. And a distraction could be a death sentence.) But his former master wouldn’t open the door until Obi-Wan knocked.

He licked his dry lips. Whatever this was between them, it was the culmination of numerous juvenile dreams and masturbatory fantasies that Obi-Wan had never thought would be realized.

This thing between them had started months ago, while Obi-Wan convalesced at the Temple after a particularly hard fall (caused by a blaster shot he hadn’t been quick enough to block) had brought him in from the front lines.

Qui-Gon’s anger had been palpable. It was only Obi-Wan’s elevated leg and a well-practiced pair of Tooka eyes that had Qui-Gon backing down from yet another rant about the Council’s management (or mismanagement) of the entire war effort. Obi-Wan secretly thought much of his temper came from the fact that Qui-Gon could not join him on the battlefield; his injuries on Naboo had permanently changed his professional track within the Jedi Order.

A well-timed push of calm and comfort along the remnants of their training bond had Qui-Gon calming further. A stiff drink relaxed them both enough that when the kiss came, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure who initiated it. Though there had been no doubt about who had pinned whose wrists to the mattress. His wrists _still_ tingled when Obi-Wan thought about it.

Obi-Wan knocked. A moment later, the door opened and he stepped inside.

“Good evening, Obi-Wan.”

“Hello, Qui-Gon.”

“Tea?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. Already he could feel that sense of calm that he’d come to know during his last few rendezvous with Qui-Gon. It made his tongue heavy and stole his words. But he didn’t need them. Not here. Not in this space.

Qui-Gon smiled gently. His hair was pulled back in a tight braid and he wore what must have been a hotel provided bathrobe. “You’re here. So you must have received my package.”

Obi-Wan nodded again. He hadn’t spent much time behind Temple walls in the last few months and the war had often kept them well apart. When they did end up in the same sector, or when Qui-Gon had leave from his ambassadorial duties, Obi-Wan would inevitably come back to his quarters and find a note with a time and a place.

This time, the note had been accompanied by a small box, containing some contraption he’d never seen before but which had come with a helpful manual.

“Are you wearing it?” Qui-Gon asked, arching his brow.

“Yes.” Obi-Wan licked his lips, “Master.”

“Show me.” Qui-Gon guided Obi-Wan into the center of the room where light from the overhead lamps pooled around a rug and a couple of pillows. Obi-Wan handed his cloak to Qui-Gon who tucked it away. Underneath, he wore only his under tunic and trousers and he hooked the waistband and drew them down his hips, just enough to show off the cage.

When he’d pulled the metal contraption out of the box, it had taken him a moment to figure it all out, even with the instructions, but eventually he’d managed to slip his testicles and his cock through the ring before taking that second piece—a shining carapace of woven metal with a strategically placed hole at the tip—and fitting it over his soft cock. It had fit almost as if it were molded for him. He’d attached it to the ring and, with a brief bout of nerves, snapped the tiny padlock that would keep him from removing the ring or the cage into place. He remembered the postscript on the note: _I have the key_.

Qui-Gon’s soft draw of breath was loud in the hush of the room. He leaned forward to run his finger along Obi-Wan’s tight scrotum. “Beautiful. Now, when was the last time you orgasmed?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “A week before I received your note, Master.”

“Eight days ago, then,” Qui-Gon said, cupping Obi-Wan’s chin, fingers stroking over his beard.

“Why does that matter?”

Qui-Gon smiled guilelessly, gave an eloquent shrug. “You know what I plan to do to you. What if I told you that what you give to me was the only lubricant I’d be using to fuck you tonight?”

A flare of heat shot from the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach to the tip of his cock and he groaned as the cage did its job, preventing him from becoming erect. The bond between them shivered with Obi-Wan’s arousal.

“Oh my.” Qui-Gon brushed his mouth along Obi-Wan’s temple. “I think you like that idea.”

“Master, _please_.”

“You washed up like I asked?”

Flushing at the memory of pulling the enema bulb from package, Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Good boy.” Qui-Gon said and kissed him. “Now, take off your clothes and kneel.” He indicated the two pillows, spread just enough apart on the rug that Obi-Wan knew he would be in a position of full display. The thought excited him.

Once he was naked and settled on his heels, his knees spread open on the pillows, caged cock bobbing obscenely between his legs, Qui-Gon knelt just behind him and held something up for Obi-Wan’s inspection. It was a long, slim wand of sleek plasteel with a bulbous, angled head.

“Remember,” Qui-Gon said, “we can stop at any time.” He pressed a warm kiss to Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“I know. I’m ready.” Even as he spoke, Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon’s fingers slide along the crease of his ass, dip into the furl of his anus and press one finger gently against him, into him.

“Oh,” Qui-Gon murmured, “already slick and open. Did I ask you to prepare yourself?”

“No, Master,” Obi-Wan murmured, momentarily chastised. It had seemed like the thing to do at the time.

“Next time, leave that privilege for me,” Qui-Gon breathed into his ear, stroking gently inside him, the penetration slow and teasing. Then he very intentionally pressed his finger against a spot— _prostate_ , Obi-Wan’s mind helpfully supplied—that sent a shock wave through Obi-Wan, raising the hair on his body. There had been shadows of this sensation during their previous sex but nothing quite like this.

“Did you like that?”

Had he? It had been strange, but not unpleasant. A thrill of pleasure that toed the line of too strong. “I’m not sure, Master.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll have time to decide,” Qui-Gon said as he withdrew his finger.

Obi-Wan heard him tear open what must have been a sachet of lubricant. Then—

“Oh. I almost forgot,” Qui-Gon said as he leaned around Obi-Wan and plucked a shallow, wide mouthed cup from the floor just in front of them, placing it beneath Obi-Wan’s caged cock.

Obi-Wan licked his lips and Qui-Gon shot him a sly smile before disappearing over his shoulder again.

A moment later, something slick and unyielding prodded at the center of him. Obi-Wan breathed out slowly. As he let himself relax, the wand slid inside him with little resistance. It wasn’t the same feeling as his Master’s fingers or cock but there was something about it, something about kneeling here, caged, at Qui-Gon’s mercy, that made him hyper aware of the slow glide of the wand and, in turn, made arousal pool warm and thick in his belly.

Qui-Gon gave a few teasing strokes deep inside him and then pulled most of the wand out and slid it lightly over his prostate, shooting off that strange, _almost_ _toomuch_ spark of pleasure from before. And then he did it again and again, settling into a rhythm that soon had Obi-Wan groaning beneath his breath and grasping his thighs to keep his hands away from his cage.

Something like the sensation of orgasm—but weaker, muted—crawled down his spine and through his pelvis, ending at the tip of his soft cock, which tried valiantly to harden.

“Ah. Good boy,” Qui-Gon whispered in his ear. “Lean against me a little. Yes, just like that. Now, look at your cock.” Qui-Gon stroked the wand a little more firmly over his prostate, drawing a strangled cry from him. “Look, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan looked. A steady stream of ejaculate flowed from him into the shallow cup.

“You’re doing so well for me,” Qui-Gon said, never stopping the movements of the wand. “How does it feel, Obi-Wan?”

“Like…like a wave that never crests,” Obi-Wan stuttered.

Qui-Gon snorted. “If you’re capable of being poetic, I’m not doing my job. Hm.”

At Qui-Gon’s contemplative hum, Obi-Wan felt the phantom touch of the Force around him and suddenly inside him. Pushing into him like a lover’s cock, spreading around the wand and swelling to fill him in much the same way Qui-Gon did, setting his nerve endings alight.

Obi-Wan felt his body flush. The skin along his back and shoulders and at his temples prickled with itchy-heat and he tried to thrust his hips back, only to find himself held immobile by the same Force that penetrated him, his body denied the pinnacle of pleasure it sought.

And that’s what tonight was about. He could do nothing. He wasn’t in control. If Qui-Gon wanted him to have pleasure, he would give it. If Qui-Gon wanted him to come, he would make him. All Obi-Wan needed to do was…just this: give up his control, leave it in Qui-Gon’s hands.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he let himself go. Let himself sink into his body, into the nerves deep inside his ass that sang in tune with the nerves in his cock. It felt as if he’d been riding the edge of orgasm for hours. His entire consciousness narrowed down to where Qui-Gon stroked him with the wand and where Qui-Gon’s other hand wrapped around his hip and how the Force held him and flowed into him. He was a creature of flesh and blood and raw sensation to be shaped and molded by his Master’s hands.

At that thought, he let Qui-Gon take more of his weight, butting his head up under his Master’s chin.

Qui-Gon made a noise deep in his chest, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. He felt his Master further open the bond between them, felt Qui-Gon’s pleasure through it: his joy at holding Obi-Wan in his arms, his arousal at being allowed to explore these new sensations and push boundaries, his awe and humility at Obi-Wan’s willingness to trust him.

“Your surrender is a gift, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon made one last teasing pass over Obi-Wan’s prostate, pressing in a way that left Obi-Wan gasping, and withdrew the wand. “Now…” he said, and reached around Obi-Wan, plucking the half full cup from between his legs.

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder, warm and languid, his body aching for orgasm and his mind aching for Qui-Gon to fuck him.

Qui-Gon stripped off his robe with one hand. He wore nothing underneath. His erection, flushed and dewy, stood up against his belly. He poured Obi-Wan’s ejaculate into his palm and ran his cupped hand over his cock, slicking himself with Obi-Wan’s own fluids. The sight itself took Obi-Wan’s breath away. And on top of it, through the bond, Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon touching himself and his cock gave a twitch inside its cage. Qui-Gon’s own arousal flamed like a banked fire.

Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan’s eyes and gestured for him to face front. “Down,” he said.

Obi-Wan turned his head and, keeping his knees spread, bent forward, as if in supplication, elbows coming to rest on the rug, head hanging between his shoulders and ass lifted in the air.

A moment later, Qui-Gon gripped his hips and drove into him with one long, steady push. The stretch was sweet torment, making every muscle in his body clench in anticipation. Through the bond he could feel Qui-Gon feeling him, hot and tight and just slick enough to allow Qui-Gon to move without fear of hurting Obi-Wan.

 _It’s like you were made for me_.

Obi-Wan caught the errant thought as Qui-Gon set a pace that was just this side of punishing. Again, his whole world narrowed down to a series of focal points. Qui-Gon’s hands in a bruising grip on his hips (and _oh_ , he’d be touching himself to the memory of how he got those bruises for as long as they lasted). Qui-Gon’s thick cock inside him, filling him in a way that nothing and no one else did, dragging against his walls and over his sensitized prostate. It was just this side of painful and he never wanted it to stop.

When Qui-Gon finally came, Obi-Wan, surprisingly, did too. The orgasm seemed to start deep inside his belly, radiating outward, soaring through every muscle. The rest of it came from inside his mind, through the bond. Qui-Gon’s orgasm melded with his own. Even though Obi-Wan’s cock was soft, and even though he felt like he’d already been milked dry, he spent himself inside the cage with a hoarse cry and collapsed forward onto the rug.

Obi-Wan sensed surprise and delight through the bond.

Qui-Gon draped over him, kissed the back of his head, his temple, his ear. “Looks like I don’t need to offer you a hand.”

“Oh Force,” Obi-Wan whimpered. “Don’t even think of it.” His body was so strung out he might cry if Qui-Gon so much as imagined touching him.

Chuckling, Qui-Gon managed to turn them, while staying inside him, until they rested on their sides. He curved his body around Obi-Wan’s, long and lean and warm. Obi-Wan settled back against him, body exhausted, mind quiet, sated. The Force hummed around them and through their bond. It was the most content Obi-Wan could remember being since before the war started.

Qui-Gon pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple. “I can’t be out there with you,” he said and Obi-Wan knew he’d caught that last thought. “Can’t fight next to you or watch your back. But I’m glad I can offer you somewhere to seek solace.”

Obi-Wan tucked his head against Qui-Gon’s chin. “I’m glad you’re here to do so.”


End file.
